Afterwards
by JillDragon
Summary: After the battle with Kerrigor, Sabriel and Touchstone try to come to grips with what has happened to them and the people around them.


**Author's Notes:** This is another fic originally written for the Spring Kink LJ comm, the prompt being: "Abhorsen trilogy, Touchstone/Sabriel: hurt/comfort - 'What was it like, going into Death?'"

**Disclaimer:** The Abhorsen trilogy and all the characters mentioned in this fic belong to Garth Nix - I'm only taking them out to play for a little while.

* * *

The autumn morning dawned incongruously cheerful and sunny when compared to the horrors of the night before. The front hall of Wyverly College had been turned into a makeshift hospital to deal with the casualties of last night's battle with the Greater Dead creature Kerrigor and his servants. Touchstone limped between the rows of cots, leaning on a makeshift crutch, his broken leg in a splint. Technically he wasn't supposed to be up and walking around but he felt too restless to lie on his cot like a good patient.

Sabriel's school friend Sulyn was sitting beside her bed when Touchstone walked over but she quickly vacated the chair for Touchstone, "She's doing better, sir," the girl said shyly, "Her colour is better and she seemed pretty alert when she woke up half an hour ago."

"Thank you," Touchstone said, meeting her eyes. She looked so pitifully young and lost and he tried to smile reassuringly as he sat down in the chair.

"Is it true, sir, that you're a prince?" Sulyn asked suddenly.

Touchstone blinked, feeling surprised by the reminder of his royal blood – although he knew he shouldn't be. "Yes…I suppose I am," he said.

"Really? Wow," Sulyn uttered, looking enchanted, "Sabriel is so lucky, it's almost like one of the stories we told each other when we were younger."

Touchstone felt slightly embarrassed, as an illegitimate son of the Queen he was never intended to be anyone important. If not for what Rogir – _Kerrigor_ had done, Touchstone would likely have lived out his life as some minor noble or possibly as an officer of the Guard. He was never supposed to be the last of the Royal bloodline. "I'm afraid I have a lot to live up to if you're going to compare me to the old ballads," he said with a deprecating laugh.

"You were wonderful last night – just like Sabriel," Sulyn told him with a smile.

"Sulyn!" one of the teachers called from across the hall, beckoning to the girl.

"I have to go but if either of you need anything, just tell me alright?" the girl told Touchstone.

"Thank you, my lady," Touchstone said formally, making Sulyn giggle as she hurried off.

For several long minute Touchstone just sat and looked at Sabriel. She looked so pale and weak, that he was afraid to touch her. The hideous wound to her stomach was fortunately concealed by blankets and layers of bandages because just looking at it made him feel sick - sick with worry and sick with guilt that he hadn't been able to protect her.

An odd contraption was attached to her arm; a glass bottle filled with a clear fluid that dripped down a thin tube and into a vein. Many of the wounded had the same and a medic had told him that it was to help replace the blood that they'd lost. Touchstone thought a Charter spell would be quicker and less invasive but even if all the Charter mages weren't exhausted, magic could be sporadic on this side of the Wall, he'd been told. The Ancelstierrans had their own way of doing things, even if they seemed strange to Touchstone, and he had to admit they appeared to be nearly as effective as anything done by magic in the Old Kingdom.

He tried to smooth the slightly rumbled bedding but he jerked back when his left hand met white fur and sharp claws instead of sheets. "Ow! Charter curse-it!" he swore. Jerking back he examined the five parallel scratches on the back of his hand.

"Oh stop whining, I barely even drew blood," Mogget said, uncurling himself from the sheets. Touchstone found it uncanny how well the little cat's white fur blended in with the starched fabric. "Really, what did you expect?"

"I don't know," Touchstone admitted, giving the cat a wary look. He'd never cared much for Mogget and that was before he had brought most of a building down on them in his unbound form and tried to kill Sabriel. "I don't know what to think of you."

"Says the unimaginative one," Mogget said with a bored-sounding yawn that showed sharply-pointed white teeth. His green eyes narrowed as he gave the sleeping Sabriel an assessing look, "So she survived her battle with Kerrigor – perhaps she isn't quite as incompetent an Abhorsen as she appears to be."

"Disappointed?" asked Touchstone, an edge to his voice. The red collar was back around the cat's neck, revealing that he was still bounded to serve the Abhorsen, but instead of a miniature Saraneth, the bell on the collar was Ranna. What it meant, the prince didn't know, but he didn't trust Mogget, bound or not.

"Not particularly," Mogget said dryly, nonchalantly washing a paw, "A world ruled by Kerrigor and his ilk has little appeal to me."

"And you still tried to kill her," Touchstone accused, covering Sabriel's hand with his larger one as if he could protect her that way.

Mogget gave a very human-like snort, "Don't act stupider than you already are," he said, in a tone that reminded the prince of an impatient teacher dealing with a particularly dull-witted student, "Don't make the mistake of thinking that the enemies of the Abhorsen are all one and the same. There are powers out there that necromancy – and the Charter - can't even touch," there was a feral gleam in his eyes that Touchstone found unnerving. "Serving your brother would be no reprieve from the Charter's yoke," he added as an after-thought, sounding more subdued.

Touchstone didn't get the chance to ask what he meant (if indeed Mogget could tell him) because Sabriel gave a soft moan and started to stir, probably woken by their voices.

"Mmm…wha…?" she mumbled questioningly, sleepily opening her eyes.

"It's alright, I'm here," Touchstone said, trying to sound reassuring and not anxious.

Sabriel turned her head towards the sound of his voice like a flower turning towards the sun and smiled, "Hello."

"Hello," Touchstone answered softly, "How are you feeling?"

The young woman grimaced slightly, "Sore…stomach hurts."

"They're talking about taking you to a hospital in Bain by tonight," Touchstone explained, "I tried to tell Major Tindall to take you this morning but..."

"There were others who needed it more," Sabriel finished, a pinched, sad look coming over her pale face.

"Yes."

"How many?" she asked.

Touchstone hesitated, not sure what to tell her. She didn't need the added pain right now, and he instinctively wanted to shield her, but he knew that she would find out anyway - one way or another.

"Forty-seven," he said softly, "Most of them soldiers, others….not. And there may be more casualties on the Perimeter and in Bain; they're still trying to get the phones working. Colonel Horyse - "

"Is dead," Sabriel interrupted him, "I know…I saw him. When I was in the River." There was distant look in her eyes, "He looked sad, but he told me that he didn't regret…" Sabriel trailed off, tears gathering in her eyes, "It's not fair Touchstone; he had everything to live for."

"He knew," Touchstone said bleakly, "The Sight told him, and he still chose to fight," he swallowed, "The soldiers fighting at the door - they said that he faced down Kerrigor alone, when everyone else fled. He was an incredibly brave man."

Sabriel closed her eyes, her expression tight with sorrow, "I know," she whispered, "But that doesn't make it hurt any less."

He squeezed her hand gently in understanding – he didn't have the words to sooth her like he wished. Finding the right words was difficult for him; it had always been Rogir who had had the smooth tongue and the ability to say just the right thing for the situation. He hated his older half-brother for what he had done and for what he had intended to do, but a part of Touchstone still envied the person he had been before he had fallen to evil.

Mogget chose that moment to make his presence known, going over to Sabriel and rubbing his head against her chin just like an ordinary cat would. "The dead die so that the living can live, Abhorsen," he told her, "Life can be hard and bloody - even cruel - but it _will_ go on."

Touchstone frowned, feeling that Mogget was trivializing Sabriel's grief, but she seemed to take some comfort from those words. A shaky hand reached up to inspect the red collar on the cat's neck. "I didn't really know what I was doing when I bound Kerrigor," she admitted.

Mogget sniffed, "What else is new? But he_ is_ bound and so he will stay," he answered the unspoken question, "Ranna's grip is less imperious than Saraneth's but she holds him well and tightly."

Some of the tension went out of Sabriel, "Thanks Mogget," she said softly, stroking a furry ear with one finger.

"Hmph, well don't think the work is over just because Kerrigor is out of the way," he warned her, "He had many servants and necromancers under his power and the Dead still stalk much of the Old Kingdom."

"Thank you for cheering us up Mogget," Touchstone said acidly, seeing Sabriel's expression darken.

Mogget gave him a withering look as if to say, _I'll take that attitude from the Abhorsens, but don't think I'll take it from __**you!**_ "Since you _clearly_ don't need me any longer," he said shortly, lashing his tail, "I'm going to have a nap – for the next year or two. Wake me up the next time you manage to get us into mortal danger again." Jumping down from the bed he sauntered haughtily away.

Touchstone shook his head and considered the merits of cat-skin rugs, not that it would likely solve anything. If the role Mogget had played last night meant anything it proved that he was very difficult to harm.

"Try not to take what he says so personally," Sabriel counseled, "I don't think he can really help acting how he does."

"If you say so," Touchstone muttered dubiously. He had difficulty understanding the fondness and the trust that Sabriel seemed to have for the cat-shaped Free Magic creature; perhaps it was her own newness to the Old Kingdom. It was also perhaps, time to change the subject. "Will you be okay?" he asked her.

"Like Mogget said – I'll live," Sabriel said with a wry expression, "Don't worry, I won't fall to pieces on you."

"I'm not worried that you will," Touchstone reassured her. He paused while he tried to order his thoughts, "But…it's alright to lean on someone you trust…once in awhile." He was encouraged when Sabriel smiled, the first true smile he could remember seeing from her in a long time. "You _died_ Sabriel. I-I don't know what it was like but…" he trailed off.

"Peaceful," Sabriel said calmly, after a pause. "It wasn't terrible or frightening like people seem to think it is; all my worries and cares were washed away with the River," she looked him in the eye, "It's only when I…started to live again that the pain and everything else came back, and I realized what I'd lost…and what I still had," she gave his callused hand a squeeze.

"All this…it's all my fault, isn't it Touchstone?" she asked sadly, "This is _school_, not a battlefield, and these people, these _children_ were living normal, happy lives before I brought this on them. If I hadn't chosen to bring Kerrigor's body here Ellie, Colonel Horyse, Magistrix Greenwood and all the others might still be alive, Touchstone."

Touchstone stroked her hair sympathetically, he knew what the guilt felt like and he knew she knew. He leaned down closer to her, "Then we'll have to mourn them the best we can," he told her and before she could say anything – and before he could lose his nerve - his kissed her. Her lips were cracked and tasted faintly of blood but it didn't matter. None of it mattered when he was kissing the woman he was now sure beyond any doubt he loved, making the most of this second lease on Life both of them had been granted.

Sabriel wrapped a surprisingly strong arm around his neck, drawing him closer and deepening the kiss. The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of them there, holding and comforting each other.

The moment was broken too soon by a loud wolf-whistle and the sound of several people clapping. The pair instantly jerked apart, both of them flushing bright red with embarrassment. Touchstone saw that a couple of injured soldiers in the nearby beds were awake and giving the two of them broad, knowing grins. "Good on you, chap!" one of them congratulated him cheerfully, "That's the way to get the girl!"


End file.
